Rain
by Ennrian Iris
Summary: Harry & Hermione meet again after school, and fall in love, but then Harry receives a letter from the Ministry--their perfect life is spoiled. Hermione fears for Harry's life. Voldemort wants something, but there's a problem--they don't know what it is.
1. Part I

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. They are owned by J.K. Rowling and WB.

~~Rain~~

The rain ricocheted off the sidewalk; roaring in the single pedestrian's ears. It was dangerous for her to be out in weather like this; cold, dark, wet, and lonely. Nothing could be seen. She could easily slip or get hit by a car if she were not careful. Plus, she was in the muggle world. Muggle criminals preyed on people like her. The storm was a perfect place for them to find lonely victims like her. She did not want to be alone, not at all. But it was not her choice. That was why she was out in the storm. Looking.

She heard a car pass by; saw the headlights flash in the rain. She did not know exactly where he was, so she started in the muggle world. She had already checked with Ron. She had already checked with Cho. She had already checked with Parvati. None of them knew, nor cared, except of course for Ron, who could only tell her he was not in the wizarding world.

_Ridiculous,_ she thought. _No one has a clue where the famous Harry Potter is. No one has a clue where he moved after he beat Voldemort once again. Pitiful._

She had reached the edge of the neighborhood she was searching. This was the sixth one that night. The heavy rain had started at the fifth. She was actually considering giving up. She was tired and numb from the cold wetness.

That was when she saw the lights go on in the little house on the corner. This caught her eye. Someone could not sleep obviously, for it was midnight.

_Harry never slept very well, _was what ran through her head. _He was always waking up in the middle of the night. Or keeping busy, so he would not have to sleep at all, _the tiniest evidence of a smile flashed across the young woman's face, thinking of some of the memories nearly forgotten.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she began to approach the house. She reached the front windows after about a minute, and peered inside.

She saw the most heart-warming scene. The fire in the fireplace was lit and a single stocking hung from the mantle.

_One… only one stocking…_ she continued to scrutinize the room's features. _Obviously a family does not live here. Someone single. He's single._

A miniature Christmas tree sat on the coffee table adorned with tiny little ornaments to match, and sparkling little lights. There was a large armchair set in front of the crackling fire. There appeared to be someone sitting there, for she could she the top of a head over the back of the chair.

_Messily spiked hair,_ she smiled at the thought. _But I shouldn't jump to conclusions. Spikes are still popular._

The person in the chair stood, mug in hand (probably filled with hot chocolate), and back turned to the girl in the window. She kept her eyes on the figure. He turned.

~*~

Harry jumped in fright. There was someone at the window. He was scared. Could it be a death eater? Could it be Voldemort in someone's body? Could it just be some freak that escaped from the insane asylum? But then, as he looked harder at the face, it looked familiar.

"It can't be," he whispered under his breath as he continued to watch the woman at the window. She put her hand on the pane, as if her hand would go through and be able to touch him. Her hair was dripping waterfalls of rain.

"Brown hair…" he said to himself as if it would trigger his memory. It did. He recognized the face. It was now unmistakable.

Harry quickly ran to the door and flipped the locks. The person had followed him to the door. He flung it open to see her standing in the rain; wet, and about to pass out from the numb, bitter cold.

"Hermione," he breathed as she fell into his secure arms and sobbed into his warm, comforting shoulder. He picked her up as if she were a child and carried her to the kitchen, where he sat her in a chair and quickly fetched some towels. As he wrapped the towels around her shivering body he spoke.

"How did you get here? Why did you come? What is wrong?"

"I had to find you," she choked out through the tears of joy mixed with pain. "I searched. I've been searching. I'm sick of being alone every night. I'm tired of coming home to a dark, empty apartment. I… you're the only one who understands what that's like. You're the only one who cares. Ron has such a big family, and is always with Lavender now that they're engaged. I don't know Cho that well, and Parvati… well… she's a full blood snot like Draco."

Harry handed Hermione some hot chocolate and brushed her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

"I'll be right back," Harry reassured her as he got up. Minutes later he returned with a loose white turtleneck and some grey sweat pants.

"You should probably change before you catch cold. The bathroom is right around the corner. This is all I have that wouldn't be way to big for you," he was referring to the shirt and sweats.

"Thanks, I need something warm on my body," she grabbed the clothes and trotted off to change. Harry just sat down to wait for her return and began to think. Why had he not contacted her in such a long time? Was it because he was so busy, what with Voldemort's attacks? He shooed the thoughts away as Hermione stepped back into the room.

"You look exquisite," he joked. The sweat pants were as baggy as Jncos on her petite body, and the shirt hung only a few inches above her knee. She had pushed the sleeves back so that her hands were actually visible. Hermione just gave a sarcastic smile at the comment.

"So, what have you been doing lately? I mean, haven't really been keeping up... sorry," Harry apologized.

"Oh, that's okay. I mean, there's not really that much time to do stuff like that when you're saving the world every week. It must suck, having to always be on guard."

"Yeah, sometimes I wish I hadn't survived that attack. Then I would be in heaven with my mother and father and I wouldn't have anything to worry about," Harry stated truthfully.

"Harry! Don't say that! Just think… the world would be a living hell if it weren't for you! Voldemort would be in power. He would be unstoppable. I would be dead, as well as Ron, Lavender and just about every other non-death-eater," she sighed. "I never would have met you. And if I had, we probably wouldn't be as good friends as we are now. Don't ever forget that. You are really special to the world. To me."

Harry blushed at this last comment.

"Now… I…" Hermione continued. "Well, I wouldn't matter. I'm a psychiatrist in the crummy end of town, I hardly get any patients because I live in the shadow of Dr. McGraw, and the little patients that I do get are so difficult to cure of their problems, they're better off not wasting their money on me at all," she was starting to cry. "I live alone in a one bedroom apartment that can hardly be called an apartment. I don't even have Crookshanks anymore. He died a year ago. I don't have a boyfriend, and I don't really know anyone outside of work, except of course for my school friends like you. I can barely pay my bills and my car is in the shop. That's why I walked here in the rain. Ron is better off than me!"

"Oh, Herm, come here," they walked into the living room and sat on the couch hugging. Harry stroked the hair out of her eyes. They watched the fire in silence, and fell asleep in each other's arms.

~*~

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: So? What do you think? I know it's kind of fluffy but I don't care. I'm allowing myself this one fluff fiction. But anyway… if you like good reading I suggest you check out my friend Aurora the Enchantress. Her writing is really, really good. We also host a site together, which has some song fiction on it as well. Here is the link:

[http://www.hotharry.homestead.com][1]

Check it out please! Oh, and please review my fic as well, and constructive criticism is welcome. Chiao! *^_^*

   [1]: http://www.hotharry.homestead.com/



	2. Part II

Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters.  They are the property of the wonderful J.K. Rowling and WB.

A/N: Yes I know that this part is WAY longer than the first, but I couldn't help it!  I really got into the plot!  I mean, heck, it's turned into my favorite piece [aside from _O, Happy Dagger]!  Anyway, if you prefer shorter stories, please, just take this one time to read my sort of long fiction!  I mean, this is the one I'm most proud of!  Tanky tanky! (Translation from Ennrian Iris Language: Thank you, thank you!)_

**_~~Rain 2~~ _**

            The fire crackled merrily as Harry and Hermione still sat cuddled on the couch.  They had just woken from their brief hearthside snooze.

            "When did you know?" Hermione asked him about his love for her.

            "Since the third year at Hogwarts.  I can't put my finger on why though.  You… you just… oh I don't know.  Changed I guess.  When did you?"

            Hermione blushed slightly before she spoke.

            "Ever since the beginning.  People thought I read the famous wizard books just to be a know-it-all.  The truth is, I only read the parts with you in them…" she blushed again.  Harry chuckled, twisting a lock of Hermione's hair with his index finger.

            "Don't be embarrassed.  You're not the only one that has done it," he was referring to Ron's sister, Ginny, and how she had confessed about her little Harry shrine when they had begun dating.  Now they were merely good friends.  Harry cupped Hermione's chin in his hand, looking at her unblinkingly.  He loved the way her chocolate brown eyes shone, the way her lips were always slightly pursed as if thinking.  He loved how her hair was soft to the touch, how her skin was smooth and creamy.  He loved her.  More than he ever realized he had before.

            The silence was making Hermione fidgety.  She knew Harry loved her, but did he really have to look at her that long?  It was making her nervous, like she was supposed to be doing something other than just sitting there, waiting.  So she stopped waiting.  She touched Harry's warm cheek, and the warmth spread to her.  She felt content.

            "Harry?"

            "Mm?" was his only reply.

            "Have you ever felt like you were really, truly alone?  I mean, not just physically, but spiritually?  Did you ever feel like ending it all?" Hermione's soft voice quivered as she spoke.

            Harry immediately knew she was not really asking him a question.  That instead, she was telling him of something she had considered committing.

            "Oh, Hermione.  Don't talk like that.  You're not alone now.  I'm here," he cradled her in his arms.  She could tell that he had been working out since graduation.  His arms were no longer scrawny and boyish, but strong and manly.  She liked that feeling.  It was like nothing could hurt her.  She was safe from the world.  She could not think of anything to say.  So she didn't say a thing.  Harry immediately noticed the silence.  He liked it.  He was pretty sure of its purpose as well.  He brushed the hair out of Hermione's eyes.  As if it were a signal, Hermione looked up at him into his.  As if there were magnets on each other's noses, they drew together and shared their first kiss together.  They both felt as if they were flying.  Everything else seemed to fall away, as if nothing mattered but each other.  It was like a kiss from a storybook.  Perfect in every way.

~*~

            The following weeks rushed by in a blur.  Hermione had moved in with Harry, not caring that it was so early on in the relationship.  It felt right.  They had shared Christmas together as well.  They exchanged gifts in the morning, built a magical snowman in the afternoon (his pipe really gave off smoke, and he scratched his carrot nose every once in a while), and that night, Harry gave Hermione the best Christmas present of all, which was practically a present for him as well.  They spent New Year's Eve celebrating with champagne in fancy glasses Harry had received as a gift form the Ministry for his help in a dragon abuse case (Hermione loved the way the glasses rang when they were clinked together in a toast), and half of January doing things in the outside world they had not had chances to do before.  But near the end of January, Harry received an owl from the Minister of Magic.

            _Dear Mr. Potter,_

We just received a very unpleasant letter.  It was delivered not by owl post, but was suspiciously placed on the Ministry's doorstep, accompanied by a small pouch.  The note was scribbled in enchanted ink—if touched, it turned to blood.  We have very much reason to believe the letter was sent by You-Know-Who himself.  A copy of his note is included; the original is here with us.  The pouch that partnered the note was checked for hexes before it was opened.  What we found inside was very odd.  It was a glass marble that, instead of having the usual colored swirls, contained a single raindrop that was frozen in the middle.  We have only a vague clue as to what it could possibly be.  This is an urgent issue, and an appointment must be set up immediately.

_Sincerely,_

_Cornelius Fudge _

_Minister of Magic_

_Ministry of Magic of England and Ireland_

            "Hermione!"

            Hermione skidded into the room, still in her robe and slippers (they were fuzzy pink bunnies).

            "What's wrong, Harry?  You look terrified."

            Harry pushed the minister's letter toward her, urging her to read it, while he read the copy of the one that had accompanied the marble.

            _Fudge-_

_You're in some deep shit, and you know it.  You know where it is.  Stop hiding it.  Give it to me.  If not, my little marble would like to play a game with you, or better yet, Potter.  Rain goes well with lightning, wouldn't you agree?_

Harry slid the second note to Hermione without saying a word.  He heard a sharp intake of breath, and her dropping the letter onto the table.

            "Why?" was all Hermione said, her voice muffled as she buried her tears in Harry's shoulder.  He rubbed her back and they stood there for several minutes, just hugging.  Then Hermione sat down, and Harry pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.  He scribbled a note to Fudge ('I'll be there as soon as I can. –Harry') with a quill he had summoned, whistled for Hedwig, and sent her off with the note.

            "I have to go, Hermione."

            She looked up, her face was stained with runny mascara, and she wore a frown.

            "I love you, Harry."

            "Ditto," and with that, he disappeared with a faint pop.

~*~

"He's been expecting you Mr. Potter.  Go right on in," a plump, young witch said at the front desk in the Ministry.

            "Thanks," Harry mumbled as he stepped through two heavily carved oak doors.  Fudge's office was _huge.  The walls were covered in ancient wizarding tapestries, as well as frames that held important documents.  There was a colossal rug on the white marble floor that seemed to tell the history of magic.  Harry could have sworn it was hovering off the ground at first, but then checked again, and to his disappointment, it was lain across the polished marble, not a millimeter off the floor.  Fudge was practically buried behind his desk, piled with parchments to sign and organize._

            "Ah, Potter, please have a seat," Fudge motioned to a squashy chair before his desk.  Harry sat.  Fudge pushed several piles and heaps of parchment out of the way so he could have eye contact with Harry.  When the piles were moved, Harry could see something he had never seen before.  A few feet away from the minister's desk was a statue.  He immediately recognized whom it was—him.  He noticed every detail was so… so realistic.  Whoever had sculpted it had done a good job.  They even made his scar special; it was a canary diamond shaped like lightning.  It seemed kind of odd to Harry, though.  It was just weird seeing himself as a statue.

            "Harry… Harry.  Harry!" Fudge called.

            "Oh uh, sorry.  I was just thinking," he tore his eyes away from the statue to look at Fudge once again.

            "Now.  About the letter," Fudge opened one of the many desk drawers, pulling out a roll of parchment.  It appeared that the edges were purposely burned, giving it the "straight to you from hell" look.  Fudge placed it in front of Harry.

            "Touch the ink," he instructed.

            Harry gingerly touched one of the words on the page and it immediately stained his hands with blood.  He muttered something, his wand pointing at his palms, and the blood disappeared as quick as it had come.

            "Read it again.  Tell me what you think it means.  _I for one, have no clue what he is referring to.  The only thing we even have an idea of is that it is probably sent from You-Know-Who," Fudge now took a pouch from the same the same drawer, and dropped it's contents into his hand.  Harry looked up from the letter, having finished it._

            "The marble," he breathed.

            Fudge nodded as he placed it in Harry's upturned hand.

            "Ouch!" He immediately dropped the marble back into Fudge's palm, and began to rub his scar. "You're right.  It is from Voldemort."

~*~

            Hermione sat curled up in Harry's favorite armchair reading a book.  She had to keep her mind off him, but it was kind of hard to when his name showed up in every chapter.  She decided to send an owl to Lavender.

            _Dear Lavender,_

_                        I'm kind of bored at the moment, so is it okay if you come over to talk?  You can bring Ron if you'd like.  I'm staying at Harry's house.  Send me back._

_            -Hermione Granger_

About thirty minutes later, Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl (who was growing old) flew in through an open window, dropping a piece of light purple parchment on Hermione's lap.

            _Hermione-_

_                        Sounds great.  I'll come over with Ron as soon as I can._

_            -Lavender Weasley_

As if on cue, Hermione put down the note and heard a sharp knock on the door.

            "One moment!" she called from the living room, trying furiously to find the keys.  Finally, they showed up under a pile of newspapers, but when she tried to unlock the door, it got stuck.

            "Damnit!" she resorted to pulling out her wand. "Alohomora!" she swung the door open after she heard the distinct click of it unlocking. "Sorry about that.  Lock trouble."

            "I understand.  Our locks are so old we have to use our wands every time!  But there's no reason to waste money on new ones…" Ron sort of blushed.  Even in his adulthood, he was still somewhat poor.

            "Oh, Ron, you're so thrifty!" Lavender squealed in a lovey-dovey voice, rubbing noses with her husband.  Hermione felt like laughing at the same time she felt like rolling her eyes.

            "Come on in," Hermione gestured towards the living room furniture.

            They all sat down; Ron and Lavender on the couch, and Hermione in Harry's armchair.

            "So, what's going on with you two?" Hermione was curious what was happening in married life.

            "Well," Lavender started, "You haven't heard?"

            "Heard what?" Hermione was starting to panic, thinking someone had died or something.

            Lavender grabbed Ron's hand.

            "I'm pregnant!"

            "Aww!  Do you know what it's going to be?" Hermione was so happy for her friends.  She was also jealous.  She wished she could have a baby.  Or at least a husband.  She was attempting to work on the latter.

            "No, it's only been a few weeks.  That's why I'm not a weather balloon yet!  But I can't wait!  For the baby that is… not being a weather balloon."

            "And we have more good news," Ron added. "I'm getting my big fourth-year promotion in two weeks at the Ministry!  Just in time too, what with the baby coming and all.  What's up with you?"

            "Oh, nothing really, compared to that.  As you can probably tell I moved in with Harry.  That and… and…" she sniffed very quietly, knowing she had to hold back her fears and tears.

            "What?" Ron and Lavender looked concerned.

            "Harry.  He got an owl very early this morning about…" she hesitated.  It was probably supposed to be top secret information, but she didn't care.  She needed someone to talk to. "Voldemort.  He wrote a letter to Fudge, and sent this marble thing with it.  Fudge suspects that it's very dangerous, so he asked Harry to come and check it out…  I'm worried something bad is going to happen.  I can just feel it."

            Ron and Lavender spent the rest of their visit trying to cheer Hermione up.

~*~

            It was midnight when Harry finally returned home.

            "Harry!" Hermione ran up to him and gave him a big hug.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I thought you were dead!  You said you would be back at ten!"

            "Shhhh, it's alright, I'm here now," he assured her. "We were quite busy trying to figure out one really big part.  After three hours we still hadn't figured it out, so we decided to turn in."

            "You could have at least sent me an owl," she sobbed. "I thought Voldemort had attacked."

            "I'm sorry.  Really I am.  I'll remember to do that next time," Harry sighed.  He was very tired from the day's events.

            _If there is a next time, Hermione secretly thought._

            "Anything to eat?"

            "There's spaghetti in the fridge," she replied.

            "Yum, my favorite," he winked at Hermione.

            "Ha, ha," Hermione said sarcastically.

            So they both sat down to talk at the table while Harry ate a very late dinner (or either a really early breakfast).  They discussed what Harry had found out about the situation, that they were now completely sure it was Voldemort, and how the marble probably possessed some power that reacted to the weather and the things going on around it.  Hermione told him about Ron and Lavender visiting and that Lavender was pregnant.  Harry looked really happy for Ron, because he knew that even though Ron never really spoke of it, deep down he wanted a big family just like the one he was born into.  Harry yawned.

            "Let's go up to bed," he whispered.  Hermione knew what he meant, and was somewhat surprised.  They were both pretty tired, but she agreed because she might never see him again.  They walked upstairs, their arms wrapped loosely around each other's waists.

~*~

            Hermione awoke the next day alone.  Harry had obviously just left, for the bed still sank in where he had been.  Hermione rolled over to feel the warmth he had left there.  She felt horrible when he was not there.  Every minute that went by was dull and bleak.  She wanted to talk with her mother, but knew that if she found out they were living together without marital bonds she would be rejected from her family forever.  She normally would not do such a thing either, but Harry was an exception.  A big exception.  He was much too special just to be tossed under a common rule.  For God's sake, he had defeated Voldemort over ten times (she never knew why Voldemort kept trying).  She tried to convince herself Voldemort would just fail again, but how could she be so sure?  Hermione soon realized she was biting her nails and had to sit on her hands to stop.

            "Why does Harry have to be the one that caused Voldemort's downfall?" she sobbed out loud. "I mean yeah… he probably would have died, then… so I guess I am glad that he stopped him and all, but just the feeling of knowing that he may never return is too horrible to bear!"  She brought her knees up to her chest, her toes dangling off the edge of the bed.  That is how she was every morning she woke up without Harry.  Everyday was endless crying.  Hermione knew she should go to a psychiatrist, because even though she was one, she was in far too deep to help herself.  But she just was not strong enough to admit it.  She knew the only other solution was impossible; if Harry were back today, and had killed Voldemort, ending their problems forever, and their lives returning to normal.  Hermione knew it was not going to happen anytime soon.  It had been twenty-three years since Voldemort's downfall, so the Dark Lord could probably last one more battle.  Although, if he could, Harry could too, right?  With this thought being the closest to positive that she could get, Hermione went downstairs to fix herself some breakfast.  There, on the table was a black teddy bear with green eyes and a lightning shaped scar stitched onto his forehead.  Hermione could not help but smile.  She picked up the bear, and removed the heart shaped note from its arms.

_Never doubt yourself Hermione.  You're a wonderful person.  Go to work today.  Keep your mind off things.  Try and outshine that big guy in the office.  I know you can.  Love you._

_Harry_

            Hermione set the note down on the table and hugged the teddy bear.  Harry was right.  She decided she would go to work, that is, if they had not replaced her yet after her long absence.

~*~

            "What?!  What kind of thing?!" Harry shrieked at Fudge.

            "Read it for yourself, Harry," Fudge frowned, tossing the new letter across his desk to Harry.

            Fudge-

                        Tell Potter I have a little surprise for him.  Let's just leave him with this:

            She was once a Bulgarian's prize,

            Of my enemy she cries.

            Taking her was easy,    

            The Muggle street I followed was quite breezy,

            But it led me to my enemy's weak heart.

            He should realize, this is merely the start.

            It was written in that now-familiar blood-ink.

            "Oh my God!  He's got Hermione!" Harry cried, reaching across the desk and grabbing Fudge by his collar. "HE'S GOT HERMIONE, YOU GOD DAMN FOOL!    HOW COULD YOU LET HIM TAKE HER?!"

            Fudge was completely terrified at the raging Harry.

            "Now… now, Mr. Potter," he choked. "How could I—gasp—have known the Dark Lord himself was going to take this Hermione woman?"

            Harry, hands trembling, let Fudge down. "This Hermione woman?!" Harry cried. "THIS HERMIONE WOMAN?!  I'll tell you something, Fudge.  I swear on my parents' graves that 'This Hermione Woman' is my soulmate, I do."

            "Harry!  Look at yourself!  You're falling apart!"  Fudge yelled.

            Harry buried his face in his hands, muffling his voice as he said, "I told her to go to work.  'The muggle street I followed was quite breezy'.  She works at a Muggle psychiatry clinic on Windstone Road.  That's where he went.  The street with a 'breezy' name.  If only I hadn't told her to go.  Oh, God, why did I tell her to go?" Harry was crying now.  Harry Potter, the twenty-three-year-old, ten-time conqueror of Lord Voldemort, was crying.

            Fudge suddenly felt guilty.  He did not have reason to, after all it was not his fault, he just did.  He walked around his desk, and sat in the chair next to Harry.

            "Harry," he whispered. "We'll get her back.  No matter what it takes, we'll get her back."

            Harry looked up at Fudge.  He seemed truly sincere.

            "But," Fudge continued, "I can tell you are fully aware that we need your help.  In this case, to get Hermione back, we first must confront the Dark Lord, and frankly, I admit, as an aging, greying man, that I am scared.  But that is the reason for teamwork.  Now we can sit here and cry, waiting for him to hurt Miss… Miss…

            "Granger," Harry sniffed.

            "Yes, yes, Miss Granger, or we can put our heads together, and try and solve this situation."

            Harry nodded slowly.

            "Alright then," sighed Fudge, going back to the other side of his desk and sitting in his swivel chair, "it's time to see what we are capable of."

~*~

            "Do you enjoy being bate, my dear?" Voldemort hissed into Hermione's ear.

            "YOU EVIL BASTARD!" Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs. "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"

            "Tsk, tsk," Voldemort scolded. "Do you want me to bind your mouth, just like I did your hands and feet?"

            Hermione spat in his slit like eyes.

            "Oh, that was not an intelligent move, child."

            "I am not a child you… you freak of nature!"

            "Ooooo, so now I'm a freak of nature, am I?  I thought I was an evil bastard?"

            "Such an evil man can be two equally evil things," Hermione glared daggers at him.

            "You are my slave, Miss Granger.  I can force you to do anything," the Dark Lord whispered menacingly.  He pulled out his wand, pointing it at Hermione.  Her arms flung from their bonds, her spine curved, and she was down in a bow, kissing the hem of his robes.  He laughed coldly, shrilly.

            "You—are—sick," Hermione spat between kisses.

            "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" he snarled. "I have business much more important than you to attend to right now, but I will be seeing you much later.  Wormtail!"

            Wormtail entered the cold dungeon as Voldemort left.  He stopped about a yard away from Hermione.

            "You see this?" he said, holding up his silver hand, letting it glisten in the little light there was. "It can crush weak bones like yours in seconds."

            "Why would I care?  Voldemort won't let you hurt me.  I'm a lure for Harry.  I do no good if I am dead."

            "Oh, but I did not say I would kill you.  I just said I could break your bones, if you're being disobedient.  My master did not say I could not hurt you," he grinned a sickening grin.  There was something in his teeth, but Hermione did not wish to find out what.  Wormtail stepped closer, brushed his cold silver hand across her cheek. "Such soft, pretty skin.  Quite a shame it is wasted for Potter."

            "WORMTAIL!" Voldemort yelled from the adjoining room.  Wormtail suddenly went from sickeningly evil, to just plain sickening.  He was no longer bold, but retreated slightly at his master's voice, shivering. "Leave Miss Granger to me.  Your job is to merely watch her, possibly punish her if she does anything objectionable.  That is all your job is, fool."

            "Yes, master," he called back shrilly.  He creeped into a corner, and never said anything for the rest of the time he was there.  It was at least an hour before Voldemort returned.

            "Wormtail, you are dismissed," with a flick of his wand, Voldemort sent Wormtail hurling out the door, which locked itself behind him.

            "What's so necessary about locking the door?" Hermione spat. "Wormtail is the only other scum here."

            "Ah, but that is where you are mistaken.  You see, not one of the people in this place is scum.  But then, there is always the exception… and that would be you.  And back to the people here… Have you ever met my friend?"

            Lucius Malfoy strode into the room from another door, a horrible, disgusting smirk playing on his lips.

            "I shall leave her to you.  You've always been the one to handle the mudbloods," Voldemort left the room once again.

            "You know, I absolutely love mudbloods," Malfoy stated.

            "No you don't, you hate them!"

            Lucius laughed a nauseating cackle. "Oh, you've been listening to my son, Draco, haven't you?"

            Hermione hesitated. "Not listening, hearing.  Listening means you actually care."

            "Well, my son can be foolish.  I love to torture mudbloods, make them feel inferior.  But one such as you… you are a pretty one.  Alas, there are ways to torture the pretty ones too."

            The young witch looked at him inquisitively. 

            "You see, there are other was to torture than with physical pain," Lucius rushed forward and kissed Hermione, his tongue raging in her mouth.  She bit down hard on his tongue.

            "YOU SICK BITCH!" he yelped, stumbling backward, his lip and tongue bleeding.

"ME?!  YOU'RE THE ONE HARASSING ME!  YOU'RE DISGUSTING!" Hermione spat several times, trying pitifully to get Lucius' grotesque saliva out of her mouth.

            The shock on Lucius' face hardened into frightening hate.  He slapped Hermione full on the face.  Her curls flew violently with the blow, then returned silently to her shoulders.  There was a giant, red, hand-shaped mark on her cheek.

            "What the hell was that for?"

            "For disobeying me," Lucius growled dangerously quiet. "Do it again, and I'll scar you forever." He pulled out a crooked dagger, the ebony handle encrusted with sapphire droplets.

            "Rain…" Hermione mumbled.

            "Wait did you say?"

            "Rain drops.  Your dagger," Hermione nodded her head toward the weapon.

            "Hm… it's not mine.  It is one of the many my Lord keeps here.  Why?"  he stared at her suspiciously.

            "Oh, no reason, I just love water.  When I was about sixteen I visited the ocean one summer.  I made friends with a naiad there and I continued to visit that beach for four more years.  Until I got my psychiatry job… she had jewels very similar to those," Hermione lied quickly.

            "I do not care about your history, woman.  I care about the present," Lucius hissed.  He then pointed his wand at Hermione. "_Imperio__!"_

            All thoughts were wiped from Hermione's head.  _Kiss him.  A small angelic, voice instructed her.  She couldn't stop it's endless whispering.  She obeyed._

~*~

            Harry and Fudge worked non-stop for the next two days.  The only sleep they got was dozing off occasionally in their chairs.  They just seemed to be going in circles though.  They knew that the marble could not work entirely alone, and that it had to be within certain range of it's controller, in this case Voldemort, or joined with some sort of counterpart piece.  The two came upon the conclusion that Voldemort wanted the counterpart so he could become powerful again.  The problem was, he expected them to have it, and the ministry had no clue _what the counterpart was.  From there, they could only guess._

            "Do you know anything about where You-Know-Who retreats to?  Sort of his home, or 'lair' if you prefer, where he would hide?  Did he ever take you to a such a place during your battles with him?" Fudge interrogated.

            Harry heaved a long, frustrated sigh. "No.  Mostly just random graveyards or forests.  Dark places where he could conceal hundreds of faithful deatheaters."

            Fudge shook his head. "We'll never find him, damnit."

            Harry held the marble between his fingers, forcing the pain from his forehead.  He realized something he hadn't before.  When his hands were on the marble, it clouded up ever so slightly.  There wasn't much difference at all, unless you were looking specifically for details like that. "Fudge, hold it."

            Fudge did what he was told, and the traces of mist disappeared.  Harry's brows were furrowed in concentration. "Well, obviously, it reacts to he who holds it.  I wonder what it does when Voldemort has it.  I wonder if there are any other reactions…"  Harry took the marble back, and got up from his chair pacing, and staring at the magical artifact he held.  He noticed as he walked that the marble changed even more.  The closer he was to one side of the room, it increased cloudiness and even began to glow a little.  He voiced his discovery to Fudge.

            "Interesting… very interesting… finally we get _something.  If only we knew what it meant.  Harry, walk farther away from me.  Keep your eye on the marble.  See how the rain drop inside reacts."_

            Harry took a few steps back.  The glow dimmed, and the perspiration on the inside began to fade.  The drop shrank slightly.  He informed Fudge with every detail.

            "Now walk towards me," Fudge instructed.  Harry strode forward, and the glowing became more noticeable, and the cloudiness getting thick.  The drop was still visible trough the mist, but barely, and it had enlarged.  Harry reported.  Fudge said that even he could start to see the glow.  Harry walked farther.  Everything continued to increase.  Harry took a step to his right.  The marble dimmed slightly.  With several steps to his left, it grew steadily brighter.

            "Fudge, I think it's tracking something."

            "What do you mean?  What would it need to track?"

            "If I am correct in my logic… I would say whatever it is Voldemort wants," Harry told him. "I have to put it down… the pain in my forehead is getting to be a little much."

            "Oh, yes, of course, Harry."

            Harry placed the marble on the floor right in front of his feet.  He wasn't touching it anymore, and it dimmed again, but there was still a definite misty glow.  After loosening up his hand and letting the pain in his scar decrease, Harry picked up the marble again.  He let its bright glow and cloudiness guide him, until the drop inside looked like it was it was about to burst.

            "I think I got it!" Harry exclaimed as he looked up from the marble.  He was standing right beside the statue of himself.  And the canary diamond scar was glowing faintly. "This is what he wants!  Fudge!  It all makes since!"  Harry dashed to Fudge's desk and pulled out the original letter. "Look at it!  'Rain goes well with lightning, don't you agree?'  That's what he meant!  He wanted something that we had!  And it was that!"  He jabbed his finger in the direction of the lightning bolt scar on the statue.

            "But I don't—"

            "Are you dense, Fudge?!  The two cause a powerful reaction!  But we can't let them touch… at least not yet.  Voldemort wants these two artifacts together!  If only we knew what they did…"

            Now understanding, Fudge nodded his head. "Get them as close to each other as you can without contact."

            Harry did so, and curiously watched the reactions of the two extremely powerful objects.  The diamond bolt began to flicker, vibrating as if trying to free itself from the forehead of the statue.  The marble was vibrating intensely as well, and the raindrop inside was trembling on the edge of explosion.  The fog was much less like fog now, and was forming into small, dense, grey clouds.  Fudge watched in awe.

            "Amazing job, Harry."

            "Thanks, Minister, but we're far from done.  We still have to find out where he's keeping Hermione.  We _could ask him, saying that we'd have to know that to give him what he wants, but then, there are two problems with that.  One, he would be ready and prepared for us.  And two, he would probably just tell us he'd come to us, rather than us come to him," Harry explained, the excitement and momentary happiness gone and replaced by frustration._

            Fudge sighed, irritated. "Back to the drawing board."

            "Not exactly," Harry's emerald eyes brightened. "I think these might give us a clue to where he's located…"

~*~

            Hermione lay on her makeshift cot in her 'room' sobbing.  She had bruises and cuts all over her body from the past two days, not to mention several bloody teeth marks on her lips and tongue.  It was disgusting how they treated her.  She was Voldemort's and Malfoy's personal slave.  It was just plain gross.  Even if they would let her clean herself up, she would most likely never be able to wash away the _emotional scars.  She heard a key scrape in the lock, and the door creaked open.  Lucius Malfoy entered, and Hermione closed her eyes in false sleep._

            _Please fall for it, she thought so hard. __Please, leave.  Let me stay still for just a couple hours.  Let me rest.  Please, no more work._

            "Get up."

            Hermione kept her eyes shut tight.

            Lucius kicked the cot and it lurched, but didn't topple.  Hermione stayed still and silent.

            "Get up," he said it louder this time.

            _Keep stalling.  Maybe he'll get sick of it and leave._

            Lucius grasped the edge of the cot and turned it over, throwing Hermione onto the floor.  It hurt when she hit, but she refused to scream, to open her eyes or mouth.

            "I said _get up!" Lucius roared._

            She didn't.

            "Damnit, woman!" he screamed. "You're not fucking dead, you whore!  What is wrong with you?!"  He kicked her in the back.  Hard.

            Hermione wasn't a robot, so she couldn't help the tear that escaped and the tremble in her lip.  Lucius roughly pulled her up off the ground, but letting go only caused her to fall back down again.  She was too weak after the abuse.

            "You didn't answer my question," Lucius growled. "I asked you what was wrong with you."

            Hermione shook her head.

            "It's not a yes or no question!"

            Hermione spoke up, but she was hardly audible. "I wasn't shaking my head in answer to your question.  I was shaking my head at you.  Because it is a shame God wasted precious time on filth such as you.  And I've been shaking my head even since I got here at your 'Master' or 'Lord' or whatever the hell you call him.  All he deserves to be called is a failed experiment from the science institute.  Not 'Lord Voldemort'."

            Lucius Malfoy was trembling with rage. "My Lord!  We have a problem!"

            Voldemort swept into the room, his long black robes billowing. "What seems to be wrong?"

            "That… _that…  is wrong!" Lucius cried, pointing to Hermione. "If I may have your permission My Lord, I would like to do away with her." He was fingering the hilt of the crooked dagger at his side._

            "No!" Voldemort scolded. "If you destroy her, our connections with Potter will be destroyed.  He will do nothing if she is killed.  It is conceivable that he could kill himself."

            "I thought your goal was to have him dead, My Lord."

            "Yes, but I wish to be the one to kill him.  Now come, we have planning to do."

            Malfoy followed Voldemort from the room, glaring one last time at Hermione before he closed and locked the door.

            With a weary sigh, Hermione righted her cot and lay down.

            _If that's what I have to do to get out of serving them…__ I'm going to look like I fell off a cliff and lived._

_            Aching and tired, she fell asleep._

~*~

            "My Lord, she's stubborn!  She won't do a thing!  I know you say Potter will only take place in this for her, but can't we just lie?  Can't we just _tell him she's alive?" Lucius Malfoy complained. "She's a pain in the ass!"_

            Voldemort glared at him. "Do not question my authority.  I am Lord Voldemort, you fool.  You are a clay figure that can crumble in my hand."

            "My Lord—" Lucius bit his lip.  Voldemort looked at him inquisitively. "You are right my Lord.  You are the King.  I am merely a Rook."

            Voldemort nodded. "And soon, Rook, Harry Potter will join Miss Granger in my collection of pawns."  All the evil in Lord Voldemort surfaced in a horrid grin.

            "My Lord, if I may ask a question?"

            Voldemort nodded, and Lucius continued.

            "What if Potter and Fudge don't hand over the diamond?"

            "There are two possibilities.  They may cease to show any signs of intelligence, and end up letting the drop and the diamond collide.  If so, we must act immediately before they learn to use it.  We will attack.  If they refuse point-blank, we will attack."

            "So really there is only _one definite possibility?  The attack?"_

            "Correct."

            "And once you have retrieved the artifacts?" Lucius asked.

            "We will summon Hades' Storm."

~*~

            "Obviously, lightning and rain are the key parts of a storm, and I believe Voldemort is cooking up a storm," Harry began to explain. "Now, lightening is most dangerous near trees, so we can rule out any heavily wooded area as his hideout because he wouldn't commit a suicidal mission—"

            Fudge interrupted him. "And how do we know that You-Know-Who is preparing a storm?"

            "Fudge… I would think…" Harry decided not to be negative in the middle of his sentence and changed up what he was going to say. "The marble and the diamond.  The way they react near each other.  I think that is why Voldemort wants them.  They appear to be storm-related reactions.  In the marble, greyish clouds form, and the drop looks like it is going to burst into smaller raindrops.  And the diamond flickers and flashes like a lightning bolt should.  I_ think that when the two collide, they just might create a storm that can be controlled by certain people.  It can be very powerful.  And that is why the Dark Lord wishes to have the two together."_

            "Well, why didn't you tell me sooner?  Now we have a lot less to figure out than I thought," Fudge whined.  He was getting annoying, but Harry chose to ignore that.

            "_Anyway, I don't think he would locate himself near the sea either.  It's too much of a popular place to vacation.  Even if he found a private beach, it gets a lot of light, and he tends to like dark.  But you probably already knew he likes the dark… So there are two places reasonably likely and within the country: a cave, or one of his Death Eaters' homes.  Now, you might be thinking 'What about the Riddle mansion?'.  Nope.  Way too obvious."_

            Fudge sighed for probably the hundredth time that day. "Well… what are we going to do now?  We have to find out which of the places he'd be.  And there are so many caves in England and Ireland!  How are we supposed to know which one, if it is a cave at all?"

            Harry smiled a mischievous smile. "Well…"

            "Well what?"

            "You didn't let me finish!" Harry exclaimed. "Hand me the letters."

            Fudge did so.

            "Now… I took a year of a class in Muggle college after I graduated Hogwarts.  It was sort of a 'learn to be a good detective' class, you know?  But moving along, they taught us some things about locating what kind of area a ransom letter was written in.  I guarantee you Voldemort did not try to disguise it.  He has no clue of muggle science like this.  Now, assuming that Voldemort wrote these in his hideout, I can tell you quite a few things.  The parchment is crisp like it should be, so that rules out any damp or humid areas, like caves.  _So his hideout is not a cave, thank God.  Now I'm going to need some powder, Fudge, some very fine powder.  Maybe something that changes color depending on how high it is rising?  If something like that exists… do you have anything like that?  Or can you make it?"_

            "Well… I do not have any powder… but… There is a spell to measure altitudes.  I don't know if it would really work on something so small in scale.  I mean, it's supposed to be used on mountainous terrain to—"

            "Well, it can't hurt to try," Harry interrupted. "What's the spell?"

            "I… don't remember…"

            "Well how in the bloody hell is _that going to help us?!" Harry yelled, losing control._

            "I could have the secretary check the library…"

            Harry sighed. "We don't have the time.  I was going to use it for fingerprints.  You know, to make them show up.  But obviously that won't happen."

            "Harry…"

            "_What?" Harry asked, irritated._

            "Well… if I'm not mistaken… there should be a spell for that.  If I'd known that's what you wanted…"

            "Thank God!" then Harry looked at Fudge suspiciously. "You _do know it… right?"_

            "Not _me personally, but I know someone in the office who does.  An auror actually…  She's probably here.  She practically __lives in her office.  A very hard worker, indeed.  We can just check in on her and ask," Fudge supplied, getting up from his chair.  Harry followed the older man into the hall, where they continued to walk past several doors.  Finally, at the end of the hall, Fudge stopped and knocked on a door labeled, __V.W., auror._

            "Come in," a familiar voice called from inside.  Fudge opened the door.  Sitting at a very cluttered desk was a petite woman a year younger than Harry, with hair like fire and skin like porcelain.

            "Ginny?!" Harry exclaimed.

            Virginia Weasley looked up from her papers with a smile. "Hi, Harry!  I haven't seen you in awhile!"

            "I didn't know you were an aur—" Harry started, but was cut off by Fudge.

            "Miss Weasley, we are looking for a spell… one to darken fingerprints so they can be visible?"

            "Oh, of course, Minister.  I just have to tell you, don't use it on clothing.  It eats away the material. I don't know why…"

            "We're using it on a very important letter, Ginny," Harry explained.

            "Oh, all right then," Ginny said brightly. "Forensic spell.  One of many.  You'll want to place your index finger on the article in question, then press your wand's tip to your fingernail.  The spell goes, _Printhe__ velo, nehro leila!  It's really very simple.  The fingerprints will take a minute or two to darken.  Different people's finger prints are different colors, but all are very dark and easy to distinguish."_

            "Thank you much, Miss Weasley," Fudge said politely.

            "Yeah, Ginny, you don't know how helpful you are!" Harry exclaimed, and gave his best friend's sister a friendly hug.

~*~

**            Hermione was alone at last in her little room of the Malfoy manor.  She tended her fresh wounds Lucius had given her, and laid down on the cool stone floor to ease the ache in the bruise on her back.  A tear slipped down her cheek, cutting a clean path through the filth and grime left from her messy chores.**

            _He'll come… I know it…he has to, she thought, but couldn't help the slightest tinge of doubt she felt in the back of her mind._

~*~

            "Malfoy."

            Lucius stepped forward and bowed to his master. "What do you wish, Lord Voldemort?"

            "Tell Miss Granger she is allowed to bathe.  Send Miss Parkinson in to show her the way and monitor her."

            "But—"

            "No buts, Lucius.  She must be presentable."

            "Yes, my Lord," Lucius bowed again and exited the magnificent quarters of Lord Voldemort.

~*~

            "Lucius," Harry growled, his emerald eyes misted over with hate as he stared at the letters many fingerprints.  In one hand he held a paper with Lucius' stats and fingerprints. "Lucius Malfoy handled this.  Only Voldemort and Lucius.  Those two, and no more, well, except for us."

            "But Lucius is with him everywhere, Harry, ever since he publicly admitted he was a death eater, then disappeared."

            "That doesn't matter.  I know Voldemort.  He's not as clever as you'd think, for a man that's taken over the wizarding world once, and wants to do it again.  He always has his lair's host closest to him.  They do all his most urgent work.  It went from Voldemort's hands, to Lucius', and to an owl.  And that's _all.  Minister, we know where he is.  But we'll have to find a way to get into the Malfoy manor."_

~*~

            A pug-nosed woman entered Hermione's room, and the young witch on the cot hastily wiped away tears.

            "What do you want?" Hermione croaked, her throat tight from crying.  Looking closely, she realized with only mild surprise the woman was Pansy Parkinson.

            "My Lord has ordered me to assist you to the baths."

            "I thought he was going to make the grime build till I was a human garbage dump…"

            "No.  Get up."

            Hermione looked at Pansy in disgust, but did as she was told.  Pansy shot thin chains from her wand, binding Hermione's hands behind her back.  Pansy dragged her out of the room.

            The halls were richly decorated, Hermione noticed, as she was pushed along.  Stone walls were inlaid with polished ebony carved with intricate patterns, and niches held enchanted candles, with melting wax that dripped into designs and pictures.  There were many dark and gloomy tapestries, depicting famous crimes of magic's history, including the murder of Harry's parents.  Hermione nearly vomited when she passed that one.  It was all too scary.

            "We're here," Pansy grunted, and shoved Hermione through a narrow doorway into blackness.  Pansy snapped her fingers and chandeliers decked with dozens of black candles flickered on, revealing a large, circular bath in the center of the room.  The water looked like freezing steel.  Little flamelets floated out of Pansy's wand, diving into the bath.  Steam sizzled off the surface, and it was immediately warmer in the room.

            "There.  It's hot now.  Get in.  You have ten minutes to get in, get out, get dressed, and leave with me to return to your cell."

            Cell?  So they _did consider her a real prisoner.  The room __was a lot like a cell though, so it made sense._

            Hermione stripped off her clothes, got in and bathed as quickly as possible, accepted the charcoal grey towel from a very bored Pansy, dried off, and clothed herself again.  It felt good to be clean, but it was also really weird.  She wasn't very sure anymore whether that was normal water or not.  On the way back to her chamber, she could barely walk.  She hit her cot immediately and was welcomed by Morpheus' arms once back inside the familiarly small room.

~*~

            "You're a genius, Harry!" Fudge exclaimed happily. "Harry…?"

            Harry's head was resting on one arm, eyes shut, breathing slowly.  Fudge couldn't help but smile.  It had been a tiring day.  Just as Fudge was about to give in to sleep as well, Harry awoke with a strangled cry, grasping his forehead.

            Fudge straightened in his seat. "Harry, what's wrong?  What made your scar hurt?"

            "He's—done something—to Hermione—I know it," he got out, breathing heavily in pain.

~*~

Hermione's eyes fluttered open and she immediately felt a searing pain in her arm.

"Jesus!" she cried. "What the—"

What she saw on her forearm took her breath away.  Ink dark as a raven's wing had etched a skull with a snake through it on her skin.  She, goody-goody Hermione Granger, had the Dark Mark on her forearm.  Fresh tears spilled from her eyes, splashing onto the sore, reddened skin where she was permanently marked.

"Harry, please come soon," she sobbed.

~*~

            "I've asked for Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, and several other aurors to accompany you, Harry.  I'm sorry I cannot come—"

            "I'm going by myself," Harry stated flatly, interrupted Fudge.

            "But, Harry—"

            "_I'm going by myself," Harry repeated firmly. "They'll just get in the way.  I don't want them to get killed.  Voldemort just wants me."_

            Fudge had a disappointed look on his face, but knew Harry wouldn't allow him, now matter how much he argued, to let others go along.

            "Harry _you could get killed," was all he said._

            "I don't give a damn!  Don't you understand?!  This is between him and me.  That's it, Fudge.  Okay?" Harry walked over to the statue of himself, cupping one hand under the diamond bolt and holding the marble in the other.  He coaxed the bolt out of the statue with the marble, until it fell into his hand.  He put the marble back in one pocket, and the bolt in another, making sure they were secure.

            "All right, Harry, you win," Fudge acquiesced.

            "Thank you.  Now I'm leaving."

            "Already?!"

            "Three words: element of surprise," Harry answered bluntly, grabbing his cloak and leaving Fudge's cluttered office.

~*~

            Someone opened and shut the door to Hermione's room.  Once again, she decided on pretending to sleep.

            After five minutes of heavy breathing, the person made faint whimpers, almost as if they were about to cry.  Maybe they were already crying.  This didn't sound like Voldemort, Lucius, Pansy, or even Wormtail.  No one ever cried in the manor except for her.  She wanted to see who it was, but was afraid to reveal her faked sleep.

            Within another two minutes, Hermione heard the person's shoes pad softly on the stones as they moved closer to her cot.  They sniffed.  She continued to 'sleep'.

            A long time passed before anything else happened.  Hermione had almost forgotten the person was there.  And then they placed a cold had on her bare arm.  She resisted the shiver that had begun to creep up her spine.  The mystery person gasped after turning her forearm up so it could be seen.  A tear that wasn't hers, for once, fell onto the Dark Mark.  If only she could open her eyes!  Then she could see this person!  Still, she couldn't 'awaken'.  She didn't want to be beaten again.  But this person didn't seem to be like everyone else in the manor.  Lips and a chin scattered with beginning stubble brushed the evil tattoo on her forearm.  At least now she knew it was a man.  What was odd was that none of the several men she had seen at the Malfoy manor had stubble or a beard.  They were always clean-shaven.  And _none of them would ever kiss her so gently.  They'd use a kiss as a rough punishment._

            The man let out a ragged breath.  Sniffed again.  He began to form a word in his throat, but it got lost in a sob.  Something about that deep, mourning sob triggered something in the back of Hermione's mind.  She couldn't act on anything though.  She couldn't go with anything that wasn't a fact, so she stayed still, breathing the breath of sleep.

            He squeezed her hand.  Part of her wanted to squeeze back, but she knew it wasn't smart.

            "Hhh—" he wheezed, like he was trying to say her name.  She could have sworn she knew that voice, but couldn't make moves off of a wheeze. "Herm."

            Hermione's heart jolted in her chest.  No one, _no one, ever called her Herm in this mansion from hell._

            _But… it can't be! She thought, panicking slightly, scared. __I haven't heard his voice in over a week and a half… so how can I be so sure it's him?  But oh… it sounds so much like him… she almost felt like crying herself._

            "Herm," he repeated, his voice shaking. "Please, wake up.  I think… they…"

            It _had to be him.  It just __had to.  Nobody else had that voice, and nobody in this house would act like he was acting.  She decided a beating was worth finding out.  Because she wouldn't __get a beating if it were whom she thought it was.  Her eyes fluttered open, and slowly she turned her head.  Her breath caught in her chest and all she wanted to do was sob right along with him. "Harry…"_

~*~

            "Where is he?!" Voldemort screeched.

            "Who, m'Lord?" Lucius asked truthfully.

            "Damnit, Lucius!  Potter!  I know he's here!  I can sense him!"

            "Well then he's not here on purpose because—"

            "Oh, shut _up!"_

            "But—" Lucius started.

            Voldemort roughly pushed him out of the way as he made his way out of his quarters, angrily heading toward Hermione's cell.

~*~

            Harry spasmed, gabbing his forehead in pain. "He's coming!" he whispered to Hermione hoarsely. "Lay down again!  Pretend you're asleep!"

            Silently, Hermione obeyed.  Harry dashed into a blind spot, just as Voldemort flung the door open.  Harry let it hit him.  If he stopped it suddenly, the Dark Lord might have gotten suspicious.

            "WHERE IS HE?!" Voldemort bellowed at the 'sleeping' Hermione.  She didn't move, didn't say a word. "Get up, bitch.  I know that woke you up.  _If you were actually asleep."_

            Hermione felt a tingling sensation take over her spine.  She sat up, and her eyes snapped open, without her permission.

            "Now, see, it's not so hard, is it?" Voldemort spat coldly, not even hiding his anger. "Now tell me—no wait.  Don't bother."

            Hermione cocked her head in curiosity as Voldemort's eyes dulled and he drew a ragged breath. "He's behind—" he swung around to face the door, just as Harry slammed it shut, revealing himself, the marble, and the diamond bolt of lightning.  The two artifacts were in separate hands.

            "Don't do a thing," Harry whispered dangerously, inching the vibrating magical pieces closer.

            Voldemort laughed a laugh so cold it made Harry and Hermione shiver. "You don't want to do that, Harry."

            "And why not?" Harry retorted.

            "You just simply are not intelligent enough to understand the powers you hold in your hands.  And you wouldn't know how to control it," Voldemort explained coolly, as if there wasn't a threat within ten thousand miles.  But he also underestimated Harry.

            "Oh, I've been catching up on my studies."

            "Oh really, Harry?  Well then would you care to tell me what those things you hold _do?"_

            In a flash of blinding white light and rumbling thunder, the artifacts collided.  Clearly, Harry didn't intend to tell Voldemort, but rather show him.

            Hermione shrieked when she saw Harry's hands.  The glass from the marble had broken in the collision and his hands were bleeding freely. "Harry!"

            "Cover yourself, Hermione!"

            Just as she did as she was told, sheets of rain began to pour down.  Outside and _inside the Malfoy manor.  Voldmort and Harry were drenched already, but it didn't wipe the alertness from Harry's eyes. "Let's take this outside," he growled at Voldemort.  Surprisingly, through all the rain, Voldemort still heard him.  They apparated quickly to the front grounds._

            "Voldemort," Harry called through the roaring rain and thunder. "You've _no idea what you've gotten yourself into!"_

            Harry pulled out his wand as Voldemort did the same.

            "HADES," Harry screamed at the top of his lungs, "YOUR WRATH HAS BEEN UNLEASHED!"

            As he finished his sentence, a bolt of lightning shot from the black sky, striking a weeping willow.  It fell to the ground, its ruins all the size of toothpicks.

            "Horrible aim, Harry!" Voldemort yelled, laughing shrilly.

            "Oh, no!  Not at all!  See, your private owl was in that tree!" Harry smirked.  He almost detected a slight falter in Voldemort's evil grin.

            "_CRU—" Voldemort began, but Harry was faster.  Lightning singed a patch of ground six yards away from Voldemort.  The afterstrike cut off the Dark Lord, causing him to drop his wand in shock. "Still, you can't kill me, Harry!" he laughed maniacally, an insane glint in his eye._

            "Hey, I've never done this before!  Gimme a break!" Harry joked, which was odd in such a serious situation.  It was so unreal that both were almost going mad.

            Another bolt crashed through the roof of the manor, followed by a deafening roll of thunder.

            "THERE GOES YOUR RIGHT HAND MAN!" Harry yelled.

            "You know, you may have killed the mudblood!" Voldemort shrieked, trying to cover up the falter in his voice.  Lucius Malfoy was _dead._

            Harry wasn't afraid.  He had purposely waited till Lucius had gotten to another part of the manor. "She's not dead!" And then he noticed that Voldemort was just standing there, like a ghostly statue in a storm.  Harry heard an un-called-for roll of thunder, and realized, panicked, that Voldemort was trying to overthrow Harry's control of the storm.

            Harry could not play around anymore.  Malfoy's ashes didn't matter.  Pain etched into Harry's face as he tried to fight Voldemort's attempts to takeover.

            "'Mr. Harold James Potter, killed by Our Lord'," Voldemort called calmly across the flooded ground. "That is what they will put on your tombstone Potter.  I will be Their Lord, once you're gone.  They will have no choice to give in to My Divine Power."

            Harry was completely horrified of how Voldemort spoke of himself.  Like a God.  A sick, twisted God.

            Harry felt himself running out of strength.  He couldn't prevent Voldemort's overthrow much longer.  He was cold and wet, and beginning to develop a cough.  He slipped into a peculiar state, where he partly _forgot how important it was for him to kill the evil man, no, __thing before him.  He just wanted to be home, sleeping in his warm bed, his arms around his precious Hermione.  What was happening didn't seem to matter compared to love and sleep… wonderful… peaceful… quiescent sleep.  He pushed all the strength out of his body, yelled something that he had no clue he was yelling, and collapsed.  A bright flash flooded his vision and then everything was black._

~*~

            They were all arrested.  Every last Death Eater, all according to master lists and _willing Death Eaters, was taken to Azkaban.  They were to spend eternity there, harmless to the outside world._

            As for the ashes, they had been disposed of.  No one but the Ministry and selected few knew where, and most didn't care.  He was gone, truly gone.  Weeks of celebration had taken place, and the newly wed Potters had received a large sum of money.  Half of it ended up 'anonymously' owled to the Weasley house hold, which now had two new beautiful twin girls, both with flaming red hair of course.

            As for the Potters, they kept the house they were in.  It was comfortable, and a newer, bigger house wasn't necessary.  Hermione enjoyed a _home, rather than an empty mansion, and Harry agreed._

            Two months after Voldemort was killed, Hermione sat cuddled with Harry on their couch, the same one they had first kissed on.  Their fingers were tangled, as if never to be pried apart.  Their wedding rings sparkled in the firelight.

            "Harry," Hermione spoke quietly.  She squeezed his hand.

"Hmm?"

            "I love you…"

            Harry almost laughed.  "Well, what a shocker!  I thought we just got married because you're pregnant!" he teased.

            Hermione smiled, and play-slapped him.  Harry smiled. "I love you too, Herm." Then he looked down and touched her stomach.  "And I love you, too."

            Hermione rested her head on his chest, let her eyes close.  Harry kissed the top of her hair and joined her in sleep.

~*~

A/N:  IT'S FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  ::does a happy dance:: Doesn't the end just make ya all warm and fuzzy inside?? ::beams:: (or either make you barf, if you don't like fluff).  Yes, I know it ends really really really fluffy, but I'm sorrrrrrrrrryyyy, I can't help it.  I'm not very good at non-fluff endings, unless I'm writing angst, which I'm not.  Or comedy.  In other words, I can't write general or romance without the attack of the corny-ness.  Oh ze well.  I'M DONE!  WOOHOO!  Please review, and please please please please ::gets down on knees:: _please r/r my other stuff!  Esp. __O, Happy Dagger, 'cause I have a puny summat like 2 reviews on it, and I personally think it's one of my cooler ones. [And it's short, so you don't have to read all the crap that you just did ;)]  Bye byeee!!!!!_


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